


Ti Amo

by Amlin



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Fluff, Jealousy, M/M, mentioned sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 02:41:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10653240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amlin/pseuds/Amlin
Summary: King Alistair and Zevran have been a couple for several months now. Much to the Antivan's bewilderment, however, his lover has stopped spending as much time with him as before, disappearing on "business". One day the assassin decides to find out why... Only to be end up being surprised.





	Ti Amo

**Author's Note:**

> Random ideas pop into my head, and then I like to actually wrote them instead of sleeping at 7am. I hope you enjoy! I use Italian to represent Antivan here.

The Fifth Blight had been over with for almost half a year now, Alistair ruling as Ferelden's king for all of that. Admittedly, the man needed a lot of help from his advisors and friends, constantly worrying that he would do something wrong... Or that he already was. After some time, however, the others had to go about their own business, and the ex-Grey Warden was left alone... Or well, not really. You see, not everyone had left.

Zevran Arainai had decided to stay behind for his friend. In truth they had become increasingly closer to each other and the assassin wasn't entirely willing to leave like the others. Making fun of Alistair was a past time he didn't want to give up so soon. Besides, the new King needed someone familiar to remain behind with him, if only to knock some sense into him whenever he started to whine and whimper about regretting his agreement to his new position of power.

Alistair was a far better king than he gave himself credit for. He was open, friendly, and genuinely cared about the people of Ferelden. He wanted to make everyone feel welcome and as far as he could tell everyone loved him as well. Most of everyone. Couldn't please everyone unfortunately. Some people still preferred their previous king, or wished that Anora would have ruled. Whatever their wishes, no one could deny that Alistiar was _trying_.

And those who did were just ignored.

At least by Zevran.

Whether the man wanted him around or not, he had remained. Truthfully, the relief on Alistair's face had been evident when he found out. Someone familiar in this unfamiliar place to keep him grounded. Even if Zevran was a bit chaotic at times, even if he knew just the right things to say to pull a violent blush onto his cheeks at the most _inappropriate_ times.

But he was relieved, and that was quite honestly a good thing in the Crow's eyes. Alistair sought out his company every day after that. It was rather cute, watching him come up to him like an eager puppy happy to see his master. Not that Zevran was in any way Alistair's master, nor did he want to be as enticing as the thought might be. But day after day Zevran would just smile and give him his undivided attention as he wished.

And in the months following, the pair of them had become closer. They became close friends, then the best of friends until they became something more. Lovers. They had to keep it a secret of course, mind you. The King of Ferelden coupled with not only a man but an elf as well? The scandal. People might be furious. Zevran already knew the rumors circulating about him and Alistair, no need to give them credit quite so soon. And then there would be questions and Alistair wasn't quite so good with tests.

So they kept their relationship a secret, and more than a few times did Alistair have to hurriedly shush him in their bed adventures. Zevran liked to be loud. He didn't care who heard quite so much and his lover's reactions to loud moans and purrs were quite the entertainment. At least he wasn't doing it in public?

But as of late, the time they usually spent together had begun to grow less. They still saw each other, but not nearly as often. Alistair would make up some bullshit excuse as to why they couldn't hang out today. He promised they could see each other later. Zevran could even sneak into his room at night like usual. Except whenever he actually _did_ , the elf found the king completely asleep, passed out on the bed as if he had just run a marathon of some sort.

The worst part was he wouldn't tell Zevran _why_. He had no idea why Alistair wouldn't stay with him any more. Was the man ashamed of him? Did he come to realize he didn't want to be with him? Did he want to go their separate ways? Was there someone else? Zevran wasn't really the jealous type, but he couldn't deny he had begun to grow feelings for him. _Actual_ feelings. It wasn't something he was used to, really. Sure he had slept with all manner of men and women in his life (a couple of occasions at the same time!) but Alistair was somehow... Different.

So yes, there may have been a bit of silent brooding and underlaying jealousy. Granted, if he had said something about it, perhaps he would have received an actual answer. In truth, it hadn't been terribly long, their time apart.

After about a week and a half in, though, he begun to grow both curious and just a tad bit annoyed. "Busy," Alistair had said without further explanation. When Zevran had asked 'doing what?' his reply back was, "Negotiation stuff." And when asked why he couldn't come with him, "super top secret."

He knew that was a lie. Alistair was a terrible liar.

Today was enough. He intended to find out just exactly what his 'amor' was doing. If he was having a secret affair, he would quite like to know. 

 

* * *

 

Alistair had begun to feel terribly guilty, it was true. He was running out of excuses to tell Zevran. As much as he cared about him, the man was persistent. He knew he was going to find out eventually. Honestly, he should probably just _tell_ him. The embarrassment would be too strong, however. At this point at least. Besides, he wasn't ready yet.

He was sitting in his private study, face burried among tomes and scrolls. On the right side of the desk an open journal with words scribbled down in terrible penmanship - never had much need for good handwriting with the Templars.

Okay, so no, there wasn't any negotiations going on today. Actually, Alistair didn't have much of anything to do. He could have spent all his time with Zevran today. Maybe he should have. What if the elf got fed up with his disappearances and decided to leave him? No, no, no. He _really_ didn't want that. He was absolute rubbish when it came to expressing his feelings in anything more than an embarrassed, bubbling mess, but he _really_ cared for Zevran.

But he felt so _stupid_ around him. Zevran was so much smarter, so much more clever than he was. He had a way with words that Alistair practically envied, and had way more experience between the sheets. What did he have going for him though? What did he have to keep Zevran at his side? A few stupid, witty jokes here and there? Exactly. Nothing. He had nothing. He couldn't even speak to Zevran in his own language.

So distracted as he was with his 'work', that even if the door had made a loud slamming noise, he wouldn't have heard it. There was absolutely no sound to alert him to the new presence. If it had been hostile, he was sure some kind of survival, fighting instinct would kick in. But it wasn't hostile... Thank the Maker.

It wasn't until he heard a silky smooth voice in his ear that he practically jumped out of his chair, books and scrolls tumbling around him. "Negotiating with any interesting protagonists today, amor?"

Alistair hurriedly began to pick up the fallen, scattered items before Zevran could reach for anything. "Th-the negotiations ended a-an hour ago!" He squeaked out. When had he gotten here? How long had he been here? He tossed the papers back up on the desk before turning his attention to the elf leaning so casually against the wall, his arms folded neatly before him.

Zevran raised an eye row, eyeing him up and down like a cat stalking its prey. How did he manage to look so graceful and yet so venomous at the same time? "By your posture, I'd say you were sitting there a lot longer than an hour."

Alistair fumbled in his mind for some kind of response, but he wasn't sure what to say. Zevran seemed to pick up on this, a low, almost resigned, sigh coming from his lips. The look on his face was calm, and when he spoke next, there was no humor. "What have you really been up to, Alistair?"

Alistair swallowed hard and rubbed the back of his neck. Perhaps he should just tell him? No, it wasn't time yet. He didn't know enough. But Zevran just seemed to be getting annoyed with him. Yet telling him now would be embarrassing. When no response came from his mouth, again, a frown crossed the blonde's face.

"Perhaps you have tired of me, sí?"

The king froze and his eyes darted up to him quickly. Woah, woah now. That was definitely not the case! Alistair shook his head frantically, holding up his hands in desperation. "No! No, I'm not tired of you! I-I just haven't had the time, Zevran! Really! I'm not avoiding you!"

"Doing what?" He asked, his voice coming out more coldly than Alistair had expected. The elf approached him, moving to lean around him to check out a book. "What are you doing right now, hm? Reading-" Before he could reach out to grab anything, the other's hand had closed around his wrist.

"Work." Came the reply.

For a moment the two of them stood there in silence, Zevran's bangs covering his eyes and hiding whatever he was possibly thinking. Alistair's heart pounded, but as usual he couldn't find the right words to say. After a moment Zevran yanked his wrist away before moving to the door without even so much as a glance at him.

He paused with his hand on the handle before he replied, bitterly, "I'll leave you to your work then, _my lord_." And then the door shut.

Alistiar stood there staring at the door for long moments, the only thoughts running through his mind being ' _smooth, Alistair, smooth_ ' and _'you big idiot_ '.

 

* * *

 

Zevran didn't bother to check on Alistiar that night. He knew if he did, he'd likely just be passed out like every other day. ' _Reading must be such tiring work_ ,' he fumed, plopping down onto the soft mattress. The nights were beginning to become so lonely without the familiar body heat and pounding heart of the man usually beside him.

He let out a long sigh and slowly looked up at the ceiling. No, he didn't want to think of the idiot right now. He just wanted to get some sleep. He wouldn't admit that he didn't feel as safe as he did when curled up in the warrior's arms, breathing in his scent and watching that blissfully peaceful look on his face as he slept. He definitely did _not_ miss it.

Then there was a knock on his door. Zevran didn't answer, but it opened up anyway, much to his annoyance. Especially when he saw the face pop around the door. "Zevran-?" The voice came soft, just in case the elf happened to be asleep.

Zevran was up in an instant, giving a fake and yet graceful bow. "What do I owe the pleasure of your presence to, your majesty?" He asked mockingly, the words cutting through the other man.

A frown crossed over Alistair's face before he let out a sigh. "Okay, I deserved that." he admitted, stepping in and closing the door. "But since you're up... Can we talk? I'll leave if you'd prefer."

Zevran snorted and sat down on the edge of the bed. "You've already invited yourself into my room, no need to ask my opinion."

Alistiar was quiet for a moment before he finally spoke back up. "Zevran, I'd like to apologize for my behavior and absence as of late. I've come to realize you're feeling lonely."

"Lonely? Nonsense. What is there to be lonely about? Don't flatter yourself. Do you honestly think you're the first person I've slept and then parted ways with?"

Alistair's eyes widened a little. Clearly he hadn't thought of that possibility. The man seemed at a loss for words, not that that was anything new. Zevran rolled his eyes before the king was closing the distance between them. Cold eyes watched him as he got down on his knees in front of him. "What are you doin-"

Alistair put a finger to his lips to silence him and Zevran's brow furrowed, unsure whether he should be annoyed or amused. He'd humor him for now, at least. Maybe because he needed the explanation that seemed about to come.

"Ti Amo." The words were soft, gentle. The accent was terribly butchered, but the meaning came across perfectly clear. Zevran stared at him with widening eyes. He had expected some kind of sappy apology, but not _this_.

'I love you.'

"Antivan...?" He asked quietly, unsure if he had heard Alistair speak right. A nod confirmed that he had.

"I know I've been neglecting you, but I feel like such an idiot around you. I should have probably gone about it in a different way, but... Well, another piece of evidence to how stupid I can be." Alistair sighed. "I want to be able to have a conversation with you in your mother tongue. I want to be able to go to your country some day with you, and _understand_ what's being said. In the time we've been apart, I've been trying to learn Antivan."

There was an uncomfortably long silence before Zevran just started to laugh. Alistair's face heated up in embarrassment, not quite sure _why_ he was laughing before the elf wiped a tear from his eyes and looked down at him with a loving expression.

"You are an idiot sometimes," He said softly, moving a hand to gently caress Alistair's cheek, feeling the stubble beneath his fingers. "I'm not going to think any less of you just because you don't know my language, amor."

The man visibly eased, the worry clearly weighing on him since their little spat earlier. "I know, but... I-I just want to, okay? I-I still have a lot to learn-" 

Zevran placed a gentle kiss on his lips to quiet him. "If you wish, I can teach you. You'll learn faster that way."

"Well, if you're sure... I-i'd like that," Alistair admitted.

"I'm positive, amor." Zevran gently tugged on his arms, pulling him up and onto the bed, kissing him once more. Alistair practically tumbled on top of him, the pair a tangled mess of needy passion. A week and a half was a long time-

After a long kiss, Zevran looked up at the king, at _his_ king, his eyes soft, and breathily whispered, "Ti amo."

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is welcome, but please be nice! Let me know what you think please!


End file.
